In Another Life
by KhAeL
Summary: Flying was Erik's least favourite mode of transport. The amount of second-hand smoke and the smell of booze and vomit swimming around in a metal tube 30,000 feet in the air were suffocating. Some Erik X OC drabbles in the First Class universe or beyond. Will be labeled "complete" since I'm not sure when I can update again. Some chaps may be rated M.
1. Six-Hour Friend

**Hey guys its been a while. This story might not just be a oneshot but who knows? Feel free to tell me what you think :)**

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Dakar, Senegal 1954

THROUGH the small rounded window, sunlight passed into the cabin as Erik prepared himself for a long, arduous 6 hour flight to Paris. He found a fresh lead on Schmidt that led him to a small town by the sea. A goose chase, quite possibly, but beggars can't be choosers.

Erik sighed as he surveyed the interior of the contraption that was to be his metaphorical, and quite possibly, literal, airborne coffin to France. It was one of the regular commercial planes with two passengers' seats on either side of an isle in the center. Seats were covered in a dark velvet fabric, comfortably spaced in between each pair. A small semi-circular wooden counter was attached to the end of the aisle, where drinks will later on be served, with archways on either side of it, leading to the cockpit. The cabin itself had a dull beige color that complimented the overall interior design.

Passengers were slowly filing in on either side, mostly white men, businessmen, he assumed, in their crisp gray suits being entertained by the airline's stewardesses. One of which, he noticed, sent him a rather coquettish smile. He leafed through his in-flight pamphlet, completely ignoring the woman.

He was a good looking man, above average at best, he knew. Erik wasn't as thick as to pass by the looks the women sent him while in his travels. Naturally, with his talents, seduction was a game he played rather well: a little whisper here, a small touch there, all in good business and fun, he'd usually end up having his way. But not today, he thought, he wasn't in the mood for such frivolities. There was a chance he was this close to getting to Schmidt, this close to avenging his mother, this close to—

"_Excuse me_." Snapping out of his spiraling thoughts, Erik looked up to acknowledge the sound. A young woman met his gaze. She appeared to be around his age, if not younger, with short curled dark auburn hair, almost red against the sunlight, and impish features highlighting some of her undoubtedly French heritage.

"_Yes?_" He slowly replied.

She smiled pleasantly, visibly relaxing her grip on her carry-on as she slipped into the seat beside him. "_I was worried I'd be sitting next to a mad man for 6 hours. You seemed to hold much contempt for pamphlets._" Eric loosened his hold on the sheet, just noticing the paleness of his knuckles subsiding. He was alone when he boarded the plane and expected to remain as such for the duration of the flight. Not many could afford flying these days and most chose not to, thus leaving him without a seatmate in many of his flight experiences.

"_I didn't peg you as one who judges, madame._" She was a quaint little thing, barely reaching his shoulders, by his estimate, not as stunning, as compared to the stewardess a few minutes ago, but fair, nonetheless. A Parisian, he deduced, justified by her rounded shoulders instead of the traditional padded ones.

"_Isn't it the judgement of the many and powerful that dictate society, monseur?_" She replied with a tinge of irony. Quirking a brow, Erik replied, "_That may be true but as of the moment, I do not see many passing judgement on my sanity, madame._"

She replied haughtily with mirth in her eyes,"_Then I must be one of the powerful._"

It wasn't everyday a woman acted so freely around him. Erik found it refreshing. Her French was deep and she spoke it fluently like any native speaker. But there was a tinge of something there, a small hitch in her accent he couldn't quite place that intrugued him even more. She laughed, noting his silence.

"_Pardon me, I was merely humoring myself. Lara Monette, a pleasure to meet you."_ Taking her outstretched hand, Erik placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. "_Max Eisendhart, the pleasure is all mine._"

The intercom took everyone's attention as a stewardess instructed them on putting on their seatbelts. Complicated contraptions, Erik thought, but doable with practice. Meanwhile, as the plane had started moving and sped up along the runway, Erik noticed the same stewardess stealing glances of him as she made her routine checks before the plane took off. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her, he noticed his seatmate, Lara, as he just recently discovered, had a teasing smirk painted across her face as she appeared to be busy securing her carry-on on a buckle by the floor. Just as he was about to make a snide comment, the familiar flipping feeling one gets as the plane left the ground paralyzed him.

If there were any parts of flying he disliked it was this. And the landing, which was much worse. Man was not built to fly, then again, he was not initially made to control metal either but that was besides the point.

Out the window he could see the houses and cars getting smaller and smaller until they looked like mere pieces of tile scattered across a floor of green and blue. Despite his apprehension of flight, heights never appeared to be a problem for Erik, the new perspective fascinated him.

"_It takes great courage to look through that window at this height, Monseur Eisendhart."_ Lara murmured from beside him. Erik turned to her and settled back into his seat as the plane continued to ascend "_Do you not like heights, Madame Monette?_" He noticed that she had closed her eyes. She wore light make-up with pale colors and a light shade of red graced her lips accentuating the slight curve of muscle at the corner that made her appear to have a soft natural pout. It was an endearing feature, he thought, the beauty of a simple woman that he could appreciate.

_"A necessary evil but yes, it doesn't quite tickle my fancy._" She sighed, slowly opening her eyes as the plane reached its designated cruising altitude. "_And you, monseur? Take-off didn't seem quite pleasant for you._" Lara finally smiled and faced him with bright gray eyes.

"_As you said madame, a necessary evil._" Both chucked at their silly banter. Erik was surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had held an interesting conversation with him, he thought, this might even be the first, who knows? Lara looked at him with clear conscience, only the desire to interact with this obviously strange man with a vendetta against pamphlets and Erik liked that. The 6-hour flight wouldn't be as dreary as he thought after all.

Then again, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, what if this "cultured woman" was in league with Schmidt? What if she happened to know something about him? The reality of his situation came back to him. He wasn't in this godforsaken metal death tube to do petty talk, he was on a mission to kill a man.

"_May I call you Max?_" Lara's voice once again brought him back to the present. She had a book in her hand. Jean Eyre. Erik stared at it for a while, mulling over his previous thoughts. "_I do not mean any disrespect. I simply thought it would be more convenient than "Monseur Eisendhart". We are stuck with each other for 6 hours, after all. You can call me Lara, as well, if you wish._" Finally noticing her partner's state of awareness, she moved her fingers slightly against her book "_Monseur Eisendhart?_"

Erik blinked, a tad embarrassed, stiffly smiling back at her "_Yes, forgive me, Lara. It seems I had too many things to think about._" He coughed, unbuttoning his outer jacket and removing his seatbelt to get comfortable. He'd mention it to her, just to make sure, Erik finally thought, seeing the stewardess approach their row. "_Drinks, monseur? Madame?_"

"_A glass of champagne for the miss and I, please._" Erik said, raising his brow to the aformentioned miss for her consent.

Taking a few sips of champagne and a few sentences of Chapter 6 later, Lara finally said. "_The things you were thinking about must be quite a burden, to put you in such a state of stupor, Max._" She smiled, gently raising her glass against her lips, leaving a faint red mark.

"_But it is these profound mullings that make life interesting, yes?_" Erik jousted, finishing his own glass as he looked over to her. She faintly nodded with the smile still intact, flipping the page to read the next verse.

"_Your accent is unique._" He mentioned, setting down his glass "_Y__ou speak beautiful French but I can hear a hitch there. It is very intriguing._" Maybe he'd learn more about her this way, he thought. Her place of birth perhaps? The feeling was quite odd to Erik. The desire to know more about another person simply because of sheer curiosity.

Lara placed a baby pink ribbon against the page she was reading and closed her book. Resting her elbow on the armrest and, in turn ,her cheek against her palm as she faced him "_Why would a proper lady tell you that, monseur? You are but a mere stranger._"

Erik noticed the teasing tone in her voice and the slight glimmer in her eyes. A challenge, he thought. Erik Lhensherr has never backed down from a challenge. "_You wound me, Lara, I thought we were friends._" Feigning hurt, Erik rested his head against the plane wall to fully face her, the sunlight dancing against her skin.

Her laugh was light, a pleasant sound to him, he discovered. "_You are an interesting man, Max, I think I might enjoy your company today. I was actually preparing myself for the worst after that pamphlet fiasco._"

Ignoring her friendly jab at his ego he replied in good humor "_Indeed. To be honest, I'm not quite like this with other people._" Erik paused. What had he just said? "Not like this with other people"? Why did he say that? Did he want her to have the wrong idea? The least he needed right now was another broad he had to shake off once he got back to his mission.

"_You seem quite alarmed._" She chuckled, still carefully studying his features "_You are such a queer man, you know. I, too, do not normally feel the need to be this social. Just what is it about you, Max Eisendhart, that I find so... intriguing._"

Lara shrugged as she leaned back into her seat fingering a magazine that was handed to her by a passing stewardess who, in Erik's expense, was the same stewardess that sent him looks during take-off. He noticed that the smell of cigar and alcohol thickened this past hour. "_Well hello there, my beautiful flower._" A drunk passenger, slurring in Russian, as Erik heard, reached over to them from the back seat. "_Isn't it fate that brings us together a mere row apart._" The disturbing stench of alcohol wafted over Lara slightly distorting her calm features as she was forced to scooch away, covering her nose. "_I see you have no ring on your finger_" The drunken bald man continued "_And yet you're so cozy with another man. Tut Tut, such a baaad girllll._"

Erik looked back, he took no heed of it before but she was ringless. And she didn't appear to have boarded with a friend or relative. Did that mean she traveled alone? How odd, he thought. If ever there were women passengers on flights, they were always with a partner or a spouse, never alone. This Lara Monette was just as queer as she claimed him to be.

"_I do not believe a ring defines a woman, no?_" Lara replied fluently in the man's native tongue. "_I would greatly appreciate it, sir, if you could sit back down. You are disturbing my partner and I._"

Ah, so this was the hitch he couldn't place. Interesting. Her Russian, although not as deep as her French, was just as good as his. Erik wasn't a man who was easily impressed, though, the tongue of the French and Russian weren't the only languages at his disposal. But she was intriguing, a curious little creature, Erik thought, as she watched her huff, composing herself, settling back into her seat as the drunkard surprisingly retreated.

Lara looked at him through the corner of her eye, curiously, he noted, "_A gentleman would have defended a lady in such a situation._" A twitch at the corner of her lip gave away her amusement.

"_Ah, but you didn't seem to need defending, dear Lara._" Erik chuckled as he made himself comfortable and took out a pocketbook from his coat pocket "_A true gentleman would not have underestimated a lady's ability to fend for herself. I do not believe women to be as weak as the world makes them appear to be."_ Seeing the smile dance accross her face made Erik's ego swell. Quite the contrary to his statement, there was a part in Erik that believed women, or more specifically, human women were the weakest of the species. But his 6-hour friend didn't have to know that. That didn't quite explain the satisfaction he felt after pleasing her, though.

The stewardess that Erik preferrably ignored approached their row "_Would you like another glass of champagne, monseur?_" She smile sweetly. Erik noticed the hostess' choice of ignoring his seatmate and that bothered him. "_Yes please, and one as well for my partner" _He said graciously, saying the word "partner" with a drawl as he looked at Lara wtih a coy smile. Seeming to get the gist of the mood, Lara smirked back, lacing her fingers through his on top of the arm rest as she continued reading her page of Jean Eyre. Her hands weren't as soft as he expected, Erik thought, they were calloused, not as much as his though. He also felt a few light scars near her wrist as her hand occupied his face-down. Did she try to kill herself in the past? Did she still have that notion now? What could possibly make her try to commit such a sin against life? These questions briefly fleeted through Erik, furrowing his brow, as the stewardess quickly did her job and excused herself.

As the stewardess was at a safe distance from their seats, Lara giggled and slipped her hand out of Erik's hold. "_It isn't everyday that you meet a man with such contempt for gorgeous women and pamphlets._" She laughed even more, horribly trying to muffle her voice against her hand. "_You are so strange, Max._"

Erik, deciding against asking her about the scars, he smiled back "_I am a lover of all things beautiful, madame," _Lara skeptically, teasingly, raised her brow "_but a man knows when such beauty might eventually turn into a nuisance when too often appreciated_."

Fishing another bout of laughter from the lady, Erik let out a chucke or two himself. He was enjoying her company. Perhaps in another life, Erik thought, he would seriously consider getting to know this woman. As a friend or a lover, he couldn't say, but definitely as someone who he knew intimately. Seeing her calm down from her fit, as she looked at him with such mirth and amusement, Erik internally sighed. In another life.

"_Is that in English?_" Lara leaned over. She smelled nice, like olives and greenery, and a small tinge of perfume dabbed here and there. Erik seemed to like many of this woman's features, he discovered.

"_Yes. My English isn't at my best yet so I tend to take notes whenever I encounter words with difficult pronunciation._" Erik didn't see the harm of showing her. The pocketbook he carried around was a copy of an old English riddle book he bought at a bazaar one day. On every space on a page were his little notes in German, reminding him of a certain English word's pronunciation.

Lara grinned, "_You're multi-lingual! Amazing!_" She exclaimed in perfect German. Erik quickly rcovered from his shock and replied, "_It seems you are, too._"

"_What other languages do you know?_" Lara, still in German, asked excitedly.

And just like that was how the two seemingly temporary friends passed the remaining 2 hours of their flight, not feeling the tiniest bit doozy. The stench of smoke and liquor stuck to their clothes but neither seemed to care, both calmly sitting back against the soft velvet, they talked about the languages they knew, the things they liked, even goofily practicing their English with eachother where Lara seemed to be a tiny bit more proficient in. Neither asked for the reason of their travels nor about their lives before the flight. It was here, one of the rarest moments of his life, that Erik forgot about Schmidt, Auschwitz, his anger and hate, even about his own family that had passed. All he thought about was the here and now, how this woman he met a mere four hours ago captivated him in such a profound, curious manner that he couldn't quite place. How their silly banter appealed to him in some way.

The flight eventually had to end, landing quite roughly, at Erik's expense and Lara's amusement. They both left the cabin hand-in-hand as they passed by the stewardess that Erik seemed to unfairly dislike and finally snickered when they got closer to the airport. "_That was not very gentlemanly._" Lara laughed, her tongue in German. "And yet you went along with it." Erik jested, his, in turn, in rough English, continuing their in-flight game as he cradled her arm, leading them both to the exit.

He would miss this, Erik thought, recalling his plans for his stay in Paris, his eyes hardening. In another life, he thought, there might have been a chance, this feeling of normalcy.

She had an upbeat skip to her step, her head reaching just below his shoulders, validating his estimate when they first met. They passed under a large archway, greeted by the Parisian sunset, as they exited the building. She was a pretty little thing, not stunning, far from it, Erik thought, but she was fair. They wordlessly stood by the exit, neither truly willing to step out of their little world of jokes and jests.

Would she still have been that interested in him if she found out about the things he'd done, he wondered. Probably not.

"_This is where we part._" Lara untangled her arm from his, repositioning her luggage more comfortably. Erik didn't ask where she'd go and neither did she, him. It was an unspoken agreement and respect, both knowing that whatever this was between them, was simply something that couldn't be. "_I enjoyed my time with you, Monseur Max Eisendhart."_

"_And I, you, Madame Lara Monette._" Erik took her free hand gently kissed her knuckles. "_May your travels continue to be as safe and... extraordinary as this._" Lara chuckled, "_And may gorgeous women and pamphlets continue to tremble in your wake as you mount your mighty steed into the sunset._" She teased earning her a half-meant roll of the eyes from her partner.

Stepping down from the stairs, Lara looked up at the strange man she met on a plane. "_Until next time, Max._" She said unable to really say goodbye.

"_Until next time... Lara._"


	2. Extended Family

Oxford University, 1960

LECTURES were such a bore, Charles thought. Why listen to an old babbling baboon for hours on end when the subject literally didn't have anything to do with his field of study? A loud snore distracted everyone but the professor in the lecture hall as he continued to drawl away with his rave of Shakespeare and his works' integration to science. Charles groaned, "Just an hour more" he thought. Quite the oddball this teacher was, old, too. Wouldn't be surprising if he actually was there when the very poet he worshiped tossed and tumbled on the British theater. "Oh, me. Sometimes I just crack myself up." Moments of a little vanity and self-appreciation never hurt anyone, Charles hummed to himself, settling his hands on a small photograph poking out at the edge of his notebook.

It was a pocket-sized picture of himself and two other women at the local pub taken quite recently. Of course this wasn't the only picture of himself accompanied with multiple women, oh no. Why, a man of his charm, intellect and stature, he has a whole album on his living room coffee table that he occasionally "accidentally" leaves open for his friends to see. No, while those records of his conquests were proudly displayed on the glass table, this specific picture, along with one more, lay safely tucked into a small pocket on the leather cover of his binder. It was of himself, his sister, Raven, and one more recently established relation. Granted, the newest member of their family still remained a mystery, even to Charles. He found her mental barriers to be stronger, more layered than a regular person. It was there for a reason, Charles thought, and he wasn't just about to shatter that barrier just to snoop into the girl's deepest musings. He had more dignity than that. Unconsciously, he could hear her thoughts but only slightly like a whisper. Her memories, if he'd poke a prod just a tiny bit, were unclear to him, like looking through a blurry glass. It wasn't until three months after Raven met her did they find out about her powers. Who would have thought she was a mutant, just like them.

They knew not of her true family, nor how a soft-spoken French girl that had the thickest accent when speaking in English found her way to Oxford. She would often disappear for days, weeks, sometimes even months without a word, often upsetting his sister. But she would always come back, Jean Eyre in one hand and the same cup of tea she'd always order on the other, at the small corner she claimed at the pub, waiting for Raven to start her shift in the morning with a small smile.

It had been a two years now and despite all her secrecy, she was pleasant to be around and grew close with his sister quickly. The fact that she was the first female mutant Raven had in contact with helped greatly in their sisterly relationship but it was her reaction to seeing Raven's true form that drew his sister closer to the girl. "She called me _beautiful_", Raven whispered to him suddenly one night while they lounged on the couch, "She was looking at _this_, Charles." Gesturing to her robed, blue form "And she called me _beautiful_." Charles was wary of her at first, naturally. Auditory Hypnosis was what he coined her power to be. As long as the subject could comprehend and hear her orders, they were wrapped around her pretty little finger for, well, forever if she deems it as so. He was the guinea pig that night they had a "talent show" at his flat. The three friends gathered around the coffee table to show off what they could do. Her powers, unlike Charles', couldn't affect more than one subject, she explained, which Charles highly doubted. "Bad things happen." She had said cryptically when asked about trying her powers on both of them and so they dropped the topic. She was capable of so much more, Charles knew and was wary of her spending so much time with his sister. She might have used her powers on Raven, without even realizing it. But not once did Charles sense any animosity or danger from the girl. Joy, sympathy, occasionally sadness, he would notice, rippled off her aura and that, he found, was comforting.

The Xavier siblings welcomed her into their lives, no questions asked, and they hoped, despite how troubled her past might have been, she would find the feeling mutual and see them as her family in turn.

Charles, Raven and Lara- Christmas Eve, 1959 was scribbled at the edge of the photograph in Lara's elegant cursive writing.

Sighing, Charles stood to exit the lecture hall along with his other classmates as the professor ended the session a few minutes ago. He always found himself thinking about Lara's possible past. Was is that horrendous that she had to lock it all in? To shield her mind?

She traveled, she shared to them one time, to look for someone who was like her. Like them. He gave her hope, she had said, got her out of a bad place. Her discover of him got her thinking, before she met Charles and Raven, of course, who validated her belief even more, what if there were more? Other people like her and him. So she hunted for books, documents, papers, anything she could get her hands on about genetic mutation along with her search for him. She hadn't memorized it all and was not nearly as fluent with it as Charles was but she could keep up. They would spend hours on end simple marveling about the wonders of the human genome, what it could do, how it can evolve. Neither Charles nor Raven found the right time or reason to question her further on her quest. That was what she must be doing on those days she disappears, the siblings deduced.

He was looking forward to talking to her today, Charles mused, entering the library as he prepared for the next class. Just like how Lara hunted desperately for that mysterious man she called her savior, perhaps someday, they would find more people like them. Someday they wouldn't be scared to show who they are, what they can do, when humanity would embrace the new evolution. Someday, Charles snorted. But today, a five-page report was due the next hour. Serves him right for last night's escapades.


	3. To Be Normal

Chicago, United States 1956

IT had been twelve years since Erik started the hunt for Schmidt. Each year getting harder than the last. For months, he would get nowhere, chasing ghosts and false identities, making enemies that he didn't need. The longer it took to find a lead, the angrier he would become. He would grow tired, wear himself out and would end up sleeping by an alleyway when his body could no longer bear the strain. Sometimes, he wonders, is it all worth it? This life of vengance that he chose. He could easily have found a wife, he thought, a smart, beautiful woman, to settle down with, raise children, have a family. He knew his mother would have liked that.

Erik snorted at his absurd thoughts. She didn't know him now, nobody did. Nobody would understand, his _gift_, his nightmares, his pain and anger bubbling inside him. On nights he would be restless in his sleep, plagued by the memories the very _doktor_ he was hunting had caused and was very much a part of. He would unconsciously bend the bed's metal frame, sometimes even the drawer knobs and lighting fixtures would curl and twist along with it. It scared him at first but, sickeningly, he grew to revel in his power.

He was in the a lounge languidly sitting on his table by the window, a lazy eye plastered on to the drab and dry landscape outside as the train moved at a fair speed. Piles of maps and small notes littered his table with a glass of scotch on the side. A reflection on the car window of red hair, caught his attention as it passed behind him. Erik turned to noticed a woman pass by and sit on the table in front of him. It was a trick of the light, that red color. The woman's hair was actually a deep auburn, long enough to be styled into a thick braided bun. Her neck was pale and slender with no marks or mars, not even a necklace to obstruct his view. She was familiar, Erik thought, he had a feeling he had seen her before. "A glass of martini, please." He heard her say. Erik's brow rose in recognition, he'd never forget that hitch. Her English was much better now compared to when they first met but her accent was still as thick. Who would have thought, Erik laughed to himself, that after, what, after a year? two? he'd see that quirky young woman he met on the plane again.

He could see a slight reflection of her face on the glass window. A deep shade of red painted her pouty lips, he could see it as clear as day reflected against the glass, and whatever she did with her eyes and cheeks had a beautiful effect on her features. She hadn't changed much, he thought, under all that she still appeared to be as fair as when he first met her. Erik thought about the 8 or so hours left on his train ride. Having her as company would definitely make the trip less mundane. He continued to recall the conversations they had on that plane. She was ironically sarcastic at best, definitely not the comic relief among friends but he enjoyed her company, snarky comebacks and was generally just a good argue. Had she changed? Perhaps she wouldn't be as entertaining as she was before. Erik scoffed. He wasn't even sure she remembered him. Looking back at her reflection, with her already fair features and the cleverly used cosmetics, she almost looked beautiful to him. It would be strange if he just walked up to her now. What if she didn't recognize him? What if it wasn't her in the first place? Erik frowned. All the fuss for a woman._ 'Really, Erik, what's come over you. Just go over there and ask her'_, he thought to himself. He didn't even know why he felt the need to talk to her in the first place. Erik cleared his table and stood to walk towards the lady. The three steps he had to take to get to her table were unnaturally heavy. What was it, he thought, that made him feel so anxious?

She looked up at him as she noticed a shadow pass over the book she was reading. Bright gray eyes that were almost unnatural greeted him. Erik stood, the words leaving his mouth. Were her eyes always this bright, he wondered, as his mind drifted, a part even wondering if she found his as stunning. They stared at each other for a good few seconds until Erik noticed her eyes that stared at him in wonder, slowly shined of mirth as a smile graced her lips. "_Max!_" She semi-yelled, earning the attention of a few passengers "_Goodness, I didn't expect to see you of all people, on a train this time, no less. Please, sit_!" Her rapid French frazzled Erik a bit but he eventually found himself settled and faced a beaming Lara.

She had the largest grin on her face and had such a hopeful look, he couldn't help but smile back, abeit not as extravagantly. He didn't expect her to recognize him at all, so her exclamation came as a surprise to him. "_How are you? How have you been? I do apologize for my excitement but I honestly didn't expect to see you again so soon_." Her eagerness surprised Erik, too. Her reactions weren't, let's say, a normal occurence for him. Fear, Curiosity, Lust, Hate, Anger, these were emotions he was accustomed to. Happiness was never even close to the list. But here she is, his thought to be six-hour friend, Lara, virtually bubbling with happiness in her seat. If the train car wasn't as cramped as it was, Erik wouldn't be surprised if she hugged him, which, he thought, was something he wouldn't be appalled doing, making the thought even stranger. Realizing she asked him a question, he replied, "_Who were you expecting then, madame? Your companion...?_" Erik teased. He wouldn't be surprised if she already had a husband by now, or perhaps a spouse or an intimate relation. The fact that she was all dressed up, make-up and top and poodle skirt that flowed carelessly until her knees in impeccable condition, meant that she would at least be meeting up with someone. "_Oh, Max, you poor poor soul. Still dictated by the judgement of the many and powerful, I see._" She lifted her head up comically, fanning herself with her hand "_Just because a woman chooses to look her best doesn't mean she doing it for one that is not herself._"

Erik chuckled "I see you haven't changed. It's good to see you again, Lara." He said sincerely in fluent English.

"Ah, you're English is impeccable! I always knew you were a brilliant man, Erik, but your accent is beautiful. _Magnificent_!" She laughed, referring to her own still very prominent French accent when speaking. They ordered food and drink and spent the afternoon away in their small corner at the train car. They hadn't asked about their activities after the plane ride two years ago and, like their first conversation, there was an unspoken agreement. Neither asked about the other's business or personal life and neither minded. The only thing they knew about each other was that they, once again, traveled alone and saw the other as not a friend per se, but definitely something more than an acquaintance. But there was something else, Erik thought as they both chuckled about a wry joke Lara made of a rotund gentleman fast asleep on the back table with a very unattractive stain on his overly stretched, almost torn dress shirt. He realized the woman affected him in ways that he couldn't comprehend. When they parted ways in Paris, thoughts of her lingered in his mind for a good few months before he resigned himself to his way of life. Never did he think about what he would do when or if he'd see her again. And now, as he stole glances of her over the paper he was reading, he was in a stump. What was this exactly? Physical attraction was better to deal with, Erik sighed, plug in, plug out, then it's over. Why couldn't everything else be that easy.

"_Is there something wrong, Max_?" She looked up from her notebook. Night was fast approaching and the lounge's lighting turned on. They had stayed in their little table for a good five hours now, each attending to his own devices until one deems a topic worthy of a conversation. Erik resigned to reading the paper after plotting out his trip in Los Angeles after their nonsensical but equally humorous topic on high school sock hops. Lara appeared to be writing an article of some sort, Erik wasn't sure. Neither really asked what the other did. "No, I just thought of something, that's all." Erik waved it off nonchalantly going back to his reading. "Well if you say so, _monseur_.", Lara replied with a chuckle.

Sounds of pen scratching paper distracted him from his thoughts. Now, Erik had the strangest urge to find out what Lara had been writing for the past few hours. He once caught her catching glances of him which she simply smiled off whenever he'd ask what bothered her. Is it about him, he wondered? Was she writing a report about him? As paranoid as he was, he even came to remember his suspicions of her being Shaw's cohort. The scribbling continued, although soft, raked on Erik's nerves. Resigning to the state of perilous curiosity he was in, Erik twitched a bit making the sphere on the tip of Lara's ballpoint pen, stick to the side of it's case, stopping the ink's flow. "Oh, jeepers" Lara frowned, "I'm out of ink.". She put her pen down and looked at him. "May I borrow yours?"

Erik, seemingly uninterested, produced one from his coat pocket and handed it to her "I don't see why you need to finish that article so quickly. _Write too much and you'll burn out your creativity._" He strained his ears a tiny bit to pick up even the slightest nervous strain to her voice.

"I do not believe creativity runs out, Max." She said, rolling her eyes in good humor. "Especially since inspiration for this prose is right in front of me."

It was either she was a very good liar or completely innocent of his accusations. "There, done!" She beamed, capping his pen and smoothing out the page. "Read it out loud for me, please?" She smiled timidly, handing Erik back his pen and with it, her open notebook. Not helping himself, Erik felt a little excited. Laying his eyes on the notebook, messy paragraphs of elegant cursive danced around the page. They appeared to be poems, little phrases and just about anything she could think about, apparently, all messily arranged in no particular order around the page.

"His eyes stern and cold, yet bears fear of things that will fold." Erik read, catching Lara sigh and unconsciously, he presumed, bite her lip. He grinned. Does sweet Lara have a kink for his _voice_? Erik read another line "Lips divine against the light they shine. It makes one wonder, when will they be mine." He noticed Lara take in a breath shuddering breath and smiled at him. "You have a lovely reading voice, Max."

He smiled mischievously back at her, "Well you're not very good at writing, darling, that's for sure." Lara's eyes opened, seemingly aghast "Well _excuse me_,_ monseur_, I apologize for my drab compositions of literature, I suppose I shall take my work elsewhere."

Erik laughed in mirth, gathering his things and chasing after her as she stood, after snatching away her notebook from him, and left the cart with her carry-on, "Lara, Lara, dear, I was only joking." He knew she wasn't truly mad at him for some reason and he did enjoy playfully chasing after her down the train cars, squeezing through other passengers and employees. Yes, he was probably attracting more attention then he should and yes, they were both acting like children, running away, or in Lara's case, briskly walking away as her chased her. But strangely, it didn't matter to Erik. Her lithe and petite form gave her the advantage of mobility in the cramped train so she ducked and dived in between patrons, squeezing through them as quietly and as quickly as she could. Erik, on the other hand, well, didn't really care.

"Excuse me! Pardon me!" Lara scuttled in between a few passengers reaching the car where her roomette was located. "Ow, Watch it!" A man yelled at Erik as he ploughed through the crowd, speeding up upon seeing her trying to enter a roomette. Grabbing the door before she could close it, he grinned "Thought you could escape me,_ my dear_."

"I tried." She shrugged, grabbing him by the front of his shirt thus pulling him in with her in the small cabin. The room could easily house two people, being designed to be used as a room for privacy and lounging. "Aren't you a little too comfortable." Lara said breathlessly. Erik towered over her completely hiding her form from anyone who might have the misfortune of walking in on them. She still had her purse and cardigan and Erik still had his jacket and manila folder but neither seemed to notice. Lara had her free hand on Erik's dress shirt, while the latter stood against her only a few inches away.

"I hope my comfort doesn't inconvenience you, then." Erik whispered. Her scent wafted over him as his enveloped her. Calming, he thought, remembering his thoughts of settling down with a wife and children. Tracing his thumb over her lower lip he said, "I hated seeing you leave me like that." Lara quirked a brow "but I did love seeing you go."

"Pfft." She broke off into giggles, pushing Erik slightly away from her. "Very original, Max." Her shoulders shook in her bouts of laughter.

Stepping back to an acceptable distance from her, Erik stiffened. He felt it, the desire to touch her, to learn everything about her, to tell her who he really was, of what he had done and what he is capable of. But he knew nothing of the sort could ever happen between them. Perhaps it was fate, he thought, that the world brought them back together after a few years. Erik thought wryly, fate wasn't always in his favor, he knew. She was fair, beautiful to him almost, kind, accepting but Erik knew this wasn't the real Lara. It couldn't be. Humans were deeper, darker creatures. They all have flaws, and so must she. They shun, they hate, they despise all that is superior to them. They are the enemy and will be their own downfall. Erik resigned to smiling stiffly at the woman before him.

But, Erik thought, if the world would let him, just this once, be Max Eisendhart and her, the charming Lara Monette, his acquaintance from a plane ride, he would be happy. Just once more, even for just a few hours, let him be normal, to whatever extend that was, and Erik would be content.

"The dinner bell has rung." Lara smiled, abeit sadly, bringing him out of his reverie. "Would you like to join me for dinner, dearest Max?"

She looked solemn, as if she understood. Or was it just wishful thinking, Erik didn't know. "I'd like that." He smiled, linking her arm in his as they exited the roomette together earning curious, and some judging, stares from their fellow passengers. "We seemed to have made a reputation of ourselves." Lara chuckled, unperturbed. "Best make the most of it, hm?" Erik took her hand and held it against his lips for a chaste kiss as he helped her to her chair in the dining car.


	4. EDITED! 15min Ride

**Hello lovely readers! I didn't quite enjoy how this chapter played out so I decided to do a rewrite of this. Enjoy!**

* * *

Miami, United States 1962

I thought I was alone, Erik thought. He leaned off one of the navy ship's metal railings, the boat seeming to lead them nowhere as the night grew darker. Of all the things he'd expect tonight's outcome would be, whatever this was wasn't on his list. Charles, he said his name was. Bright blue eyes, boyish brown hair, he had looks, Erik admitted, and the wit. He was a _mutant_ as the newly inducted professor, he discovered, termed it. He was a telepath, one who could read minds and project his thoughts. Erik wasn't so sure he should feel relieved or threatened by his power. They hadn't spoken much after they were hauled into the navy ship but it doesn't take two cents to know Charles already figured out everything he needed to piece together Erik's background. It unnerved Erik. That someone other than himself knew about his past and his thoughts, but it awed him the same way his own magnetic powers did. Charles is powerful. Just as powerful, if not more, than himself and Erik loved it.

The very existence of Charles proved to him that there were others out there. Like him. Like Charles. And he vaguely recalled the man mentioning he had a sister that was just as gifted. Erik wondered, were there others like him in Auswitch? Others that he did not know about? Did they escape? Did only he survive? Did they have to go through the same torturous, abusive captors as he did?

Remembering his year at the hellhole he had to suffer through his childhood made his blood boil, the metal railing curling under his grip. Revenge. They would pay, those pigs in the concentration camp. It wasn't their choice to be blessed. His brothers and sisters that had no choice but to accept their gifts. Wasn't it their privilege to harness it? To develop it? To prove they were stronger?

"Whatever your're thinking, stop it."

Erik paused. "What was that?" He bit out. The tone raked on him. He knew this voice, he knew he's heard it before. Amidst his anger, he lashed out, "Listen bud, I had just enough of you and your silly little games! If you want to mind fuck with every goddamn crewman on this ship then fine by me but I-"

Erik turned to the man, or in this case, woman in question, he stopped mid-sentence. An unusually strong gust of cold air passed through them, playing with the speaker's long dark locks. "_What choice words you have, monseur. I just didn't want you to end up capsizing us, that's all._" She said in delicate French.

Erik's mouth hung open, then closed, then opened again, rinse and repeat. "Lara?" He croaked. She was wrapped casually in a short cream coat modestly covering a conservative green dress she wore elegantly underneath, her gray eyes standing out even more through the dark in ways Erik couldn't explain and her hair, her dark auburn hair, catching the light from the ship's deck, bathed her in a light halo of red that Erik couldn't tear his eyes away from. He heard her chuckle lightly. "The goldfish doesn't look good on you, Max."

What was she doing here? Last he knew they parted ways in Los Angeles a few years back and he never saw her again. "What in all of bloody mary are you doing here?" Erik ground out. Rationality came on deaf ears as Erik's paranoia and anger reached its peak as he looked at the woman half-smiling in front of him. Was she following him? First Paris, then Los Angeles, now Miami? There could only be one answer. She was a spy. She was working for the CIA all along, he thought. He was followed and it made sense. They were both looking for the same person, and the potheads didn't have as much luck as he did so they decided to track him. He should have known. All this time. It pained him, the trail his thoughts were making as he remembered the conversations they had those years ago. Lara, as shallow as their relationship was, was the closest thing to a friend Erik found for years. _'Humans are ugly. That's all there is to it.'_ He thought to himself.

"_You're making that face again._" Her initial smile disappearing as she noticed Erik look at her with such intensity. Lara looked at him, piercing eyes, tense jaw, broad shoulders, even with his dark turtle neck, she could tell he was fit. He looked well and healthy. Definitely in better shape than a few hours ago when the crew hauled him and Charles up from the water. Erik pretended not to care, her wandering eyes, his rage making him continue to bend the metal railing. Lara sighed, looking at him in the eye and seeing the conflict that must be happening in that turnabout brain of his and walked towards him. Erik tensed even more, each clack of her heels pushing him to the edge.

She now stood in front of him, her hands, ghosting over his that gripped the metal railing. She looked at his whitened knuckles, then to his lips and then his eyes. She was as fair as she was when they met those years ago. It was as if she was a dream to him, looking exactly as she did then when they first met, time being oh so kind to her. Her hair was waist long now, she musn't have cut it for a while, Erik found himself thinking.

"I am just as surprised as you are you know, calm down, darling" she sighed, resting her palm on top if his knuckles. Her hand was cold, due to the night chill, her fingers trembling almost. Erik didn't flinch, nor did he try to pull away but he was rational now, at best. "Who would have thought that the man I was looking for for nine years was someone I already met on the first year I started searching. The irony of the world." Lara laughed bitterly, never breaking eye contact from him. "_I'm glad you've calmed yourself._" Erik looked at her confused, earning him a small smile from her. The man she was looking for she says? What is she talking about? She looked sincere, Erik thought. She wasn't a spy, a small voice told him. It wasn't in his character to hope but what was it about that thought that made him wish it were true.

"_I won't answer any of your questions here. You can ask all you want when we get to the base, love._" Lara placed her other hand against his cold cheek "_This isn't exactly the best place to have a heart-to-heart._"

Erik could still feel the faint scars on her wrist against his chin. It reminded him she was still the same person he met those years ago, abeit with more secrets but he expected as much. Her eyes held no fear and no doubt as she continued to look at him just as intensely. The smell of sea did nothing to mask her homely scent and it made Erik remember the Lara Monette he got to know those ears ago. "_I apologize. For lashing out on you._" He said stiffly, exhaling a breath. He felt guilty for yelling at her. She didn't mean any harm, his rational mind kicking in, just like when they met at that plane, she was just concerned. He did have, what most might call, a scary face when provoked and his temper wasn't the best either. He heard her laugh airily, getting him to relax considerably. There's just something about this little minx that attracts him so. What was it, he wondered.

"_Hm. Have a cup of tea with me without showing those dreadful age lines, then we'll talk._" She chuckled at Erik's exasperated look. "I'm glad Charles found you, Erik. He is a friend, you can trust him, despite how cheeky he looks." She smiled fondly and stepped back. Before her hand could fully leave his cheek there was something that drew Erik to grab ahold of it with his own. She stoped and stared at him questioningly. "I-" Erik started. What was he supposed to say? What did he want to stay? "Yes?" Lara tilted her head questioningly.

Her hand was calloused, even more so than before. Her scars felt lighter though, the sense of relief washing through him feeling foreign. "I- want to be alone right now." He muttered lamely in the end, slowly letting go of her delicate hand. "You should go back inside."

Lara smiled, "Well okay then. Just don't kill us all while we sleep." She teased making her way to the entrance to the lower deck. "It's good to see you again, Max."

She was strange, as if he hadn't known it before, Erik thought, seeing her back disappear as she descended the stairs. He went from angry to curious to relieved to what ever hell emotion he went through the past fifteen minutes. This Lara Monette was something, if that even is her real name. Erik sighed, re-aligning the metal rail as he leaned back onto it. This was going to be a long adventure.


	5. What May Come

London, England 1959

RAVEN wasn't so sure if her brother was brilliant or just plain insane. "You want to do WHAT?" She shrieked at an eager-looking Charles. It was Raven's day off from that artisan cafe she currently worked at in the other side of town. It also just so happened that her brother and friend were free until the day after so the three decided it would be a lazy day for them at the Xaviers' flat. Lara was by the windowsill drinking a cup of tea, staring bemusedly at her two friends. "Why would you even want to ask me something like that?!" Raven shrieked louder, almost dropping the plate of biscuits she wanted to bring to the table. Charles, undeterred by his younger sister's negativity, he replied "Well I thought I could let you know what's going on. So you wouldn't over react." Raven huffed with alarm, opening and closing her mouth in confusion as to how she should react to her brother's statement.

It was around mid-afternoon tea time when Charles started his conversation with their French friend. She couldn't speak English very well yet but she could get by. If Lara had any difficulty explaining anything to him, she would give him her permission to skim through her thoughts to get her point across, and learn how to explain it in English along the way. It was a give and take process that Charles seemed to be happy over. It wasn't everyday Lara would willingly let anyone, if ever they could, into her thoughts so he found it as a symbol of her friendship and trust to them, which was a big deal to him and his sister since they just met her sometime late last year. Raven was too occupied watching a television program featuring the life of Buddy Holly to notice the two adults by the sofa talking about things that were too boring for her. "I still can't believe you've never had any formal education before." Charles smiled, taking a sip from his tea. "Your proficiency in mutation, of all topics, is astounding." Lara chuckled, cradling her own cup "Is it not human _nature _to learn more of who he is?" She replied in a mix of English and French. "Nature, is the word, love." Charles boyishly grinned, seeing Lara jokingly roll her eyes before muttering a small "merci".

One thing lead to another and, knowing Charles, they tend to take a turn for the extreme when it came to his passions. "I am NOT STABBING YOU." Raven half-screamed when handed a pocket knife by her brother. "ARE YOU INSANE?"

Charles sighed in annoyance,"Just listen to me, everything will be fine."

"FINE?!" Raven interrupted, half waving the small metal which Charles had to dodge a bit "You're asking a teen to STAB HER BROTHER? What's so FINE about that?!"

Lara chuckled in her seat, obviously enjoying the show. "Trust his judgement every once in a while, _darling_."

Raven look aghast, "You're on HIS side?" Looking back and forth between the hopeful young man and the clearly bemused young woman, Raven ground out a loud "UGGGHHH!"

"Listen, dear, it will be alright. Lara has had experience with stab wounds so if anything goes wrong, she can patch me up." Charles said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Yes, and I have a bottle of water and band-aids at the ready to heal said _laceration_." Lara joked loud enough for both the siblings to hear earning her a "WHAT?!" and a " Lara, you're not helping." from Raven and Charles respectively.

"What made you think you can pull this off?! What are you even trying to prove?" Raven, calming down but still as stressed, rubbed her temples, pocket knife still in hand.

Charles bounced "I'm glad you ask dear sister." He hopped to wards his French guest and casually draped an arm over her shoulders as said friend quietly sipped more tea. "Lara's auditory hypnosis affects an individual that can hear and comprehend her commands and will be forced to perform said commands, or at least do something close to it, as long as it is within the limits of the victim's physical self, correct?"

"So..?" Raven crossed her arms and looked at her brother skeptically.

"So! Why don't we trying pushing the limits a little bit." Charles, sporting what Raven called the "crazy eye", said excitedly "When a human's body is damaged, it is it's instinct to fix itself. With Lara's command of self-healing, the body may be able to repair itself in a faster rate than regular due to the fact that it is technically "physically possible" for it to do so."

"I'm going to have a headache." Raven sighed, rubbing her eyelids this time.

Seeing Raven's distress, Lara laughed, deciding to end the poor teen's misery. "Charles, I think you should _take it easy_ on your sister." She pinched the man's cheek "Listen to yourself, you're acting like a _madman_. I'm not even sure I really can _patch you up_ when things go south." She lied. She has had a lot of practice with abrasions, lacerations, even decapitations in the past, none of which were very welcome experiences. She was happy she met them, Charles and Raven. Not only were they like her, but they provided a security for her they couldn't ever comprehend. She was indebted to them and there was no way in hell would she ever let any harm fall upon her new family, despite the little time they've known each other. But right now, they weren't ready to learn about her past. And she had no intention to use her friend as a guinea pig to experiment her powers on. She was curious, yes. Rightfully so. But at what risk was she willing to take to satiate her curiosity? Fear, after all, is an emotion both humans and mutants take into account.

Charles sighed in resignation. "Oh all right, Lara, if you're not willing to cooperate then I suppose we can perform the experiment at a later date." Raven bristled "WHAT?!"

"Dear, stop squawking, it's highly unattractive." Charles teased, making his way to the kitchen with Raven in tow. "That's SO unfair! You're totally biased!"

"Now now, darling, just because Lara is **considerably** more lady-like than you are doesn't mean she is my favorite" Lara smiled at them fondly as they continued to argue. She was more or less a year older than Charles but despite his cheeky attitude, obsessive ploys and just generally his eccentric tendencies, he was wiser than he looked. Bigger things will happen, they both knew, but were they ready for it? Ready for the possibility that this blissful reality they lived in now will eventually become a fantasy to those in the future. Fate doesn't take too kindly to the powerful, Lara thought.

"Oh my god. LARA!" Raven's yell snapped Lara out of her thoughts. The siblings apparently traveled to the kitchen as they argued as Lara kept to herself and her musings. "Raven? What's wrong?" Lara stood.

"It's fine, love, just a scratch." She heard Charles grunt from the other room "Raven seemed to have forgotten she still had that pocket knife."

"LARA, I STABBED CHARLES!"


End file.
